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Okay. So it wasn’t a row boat.

The hangar was two stories below ground level and as wide across as a football field. Scott pulled up the lever beside the door with a loud click, and row after row of fluorescent overhead lights illuminated the various aircrafts and vehicles. Logan sucked in his breath and scanned each one, not inclined to speak.

“Makes you feel like a kid in a candy store, doesn’t it?” Scott’s tone was smug, but Logan didn’t argue. He led him to an enormous, sleek jet, and Logan could have sworn it was staring back at him.

“Logan, Lockheed. Lockheed, Logan.” He gestured to the craft with his introduction.

“A Blackbird. A friggin’ SR-71 Blackbird??”

“Yup.”

“And a whole warehouse full of goodies right under the house? Ya ain’t afraid someone might get in and start pokin’ around, keeping all this on the property?”

“We’ve never had so much as the neighbors coming by to borrow a cup of sugar. And it’s a school for mutants, not just a house. Think we’ll manage.”

“Famous last fuckin’ words.”

“You always this social?”

“Sometimes I’m a real wallflower.” He didn’t resist the urge to peruse the rows of jets, land rovers, Jeeps, a couple of vans, and the most souped up Hummer he’d ever laid eyes on. “Nice,” he exclaimed under his breath. “And Charley foots the bill for all this gas?”

“Don’t get any ideas.”

“I passed ‘idea’ ten seconds ago. Call it a plan. Shit, call it a wet dream come true if ya want.”

“I’d rather not. I’m in such a bad mental place right now.” Logan smirked. “Besides, you’re dreaming too small.”

“Spoken like a man who’s whipped.” Scott’s eyes narrowed imperceptibly behind his spectacles and his lips flattened again.

“You’re the expert. Most men in your line of work and with personnel records that read like a rap sheet don’t usually bring anyone else along for the ride. Didn’t figure you’d be the one to know what ‘whipped’ looks like if you’ve never been there.”

“Ya don’t know where I’ve been. But assume what ya want, Scooter.” He peered at the jet again. “This thing got cruise control?” Scott didn’t hide his smile.

~0~

I miss you, sister. Ororo attempted to center herself, to no avail.

Something in her loft was “off.”

She closed her eyes and breathed deep, expanding her awareness of her surroundings. Fresh air streamed inside through the skylight and stroked her, making her clothing and her hair flutter.

She caught the offending problem and rose from her seat. She crossed the loft, stopping at the large, potted ficus tree, and with a thought, she summoned a palm-sized rain cloud, saturating the slightly crusty soil. The brilliant white glow receded from her eyes, reverting to their customary blue.

“Much better.” That chore finished, she began to dust her framed photographs with a soft rag. She held the five-by-seven of her with Jean that Scott had taken of them at Coney Island, saluting him with hot dogs and cotton candy in front of the roller coaster booth. Scott, amusingly, resorted to the chicken exit. Jean looked fresh-faced and pretty, wholesomely clad in a smart emerald sweater and denim cargo skirt. Ororo sighed at her own choice of attire, shaking her head at her large sunglasses and the roomy hat she’d pulled over her hair.

Traces of Jean decorated Ororo’s room and made her feel her absence more keenly. Jean’s graduation photo. The soft white silk nightgown she’d given Ororo for her birthday, folded neatly atop the wicker laundry basket. A spider plant hanging from a macramé holder by her window. A quilted photo album she’d made herself, covered in pale blue calico, knowing Ororo needed it, even though she abhorred arts and crafts.

I’d feel it if she was gone. That was the only thing that kept her going. Scott had been withdrawn and looked increasingly gaunt these past few days, despite Moira’s efforts and her own to fatten him up. The arrival of the Professor’s prospective new recruit had the unexpected benefit of re-igniting a spark of life in her second best friend; it didn’t matted it if was like watching two alpha dogs sizing each other up. It was just good to see him interacting with them again instead of being pent up in the suite he shared with Jean. The room was immaculate, save for Jean’s favorite cosmetics, still laid out across the dresser and the paid or green satin house slippers leading toward the beg as though she’d jut stepped out of them.

She dismissed it and headed downstairs. The Professor was expecting more company, and she wanted to help Moira prepare tea.

The attractive Scot was cursing under breath as she rolled out a flour-dusted pie crust. “Och, why do I persist in making bluidy pies, I’m a glutton for punishment!” Ororo chuckled, drawing her attention as she entered the sun-drenched room. “Don’t just stand there, lass, pick up a knife and peel these apples, they won’t do it themselves!” Ororo obliged her, washing her hands and donning the spare apron hanging from the peg.

“How many are we expecting?”

“According tae Charley, five more! I’ve yet tae air out the rooms, and I’m knackered! Fetch me the sugar from the pantry, there’s a good lass!”

“I wasn’t expecting so many,” Ororo admitted.

“Yuirself and me both. Always dropping things in me lap at the last bleedin’ minute, my Charley.” Ororo stifled a laugh as she continued peeling the apples, the long green strips hanging in coils as she worked.

“I’m curious to know if they’ll stay. Provided that we even come back.” She startled at the sharp flick of a rolled-up dishtowel smacking her bottom.

“Dinna talk like that, colleen,” Moira snapped. “If ye dinna feel yuir coming home tae me an’ Charley, then ye have no business getting on that blasted plane. Doubtin’ yuirself will doom all o’ ye from the start.” She resumed working the crust into the pie pans. “Don’t ye think I miss her, too? I dinna sleep at night, Ororo. Know that I dinna plan tae sleep until ye bring my other two colleens home wi’ ye.” Lorna’s empty bedroom had also been kept in pristine condition; Moira even missed Alex’s sloppy living habits, having decided to kick his bum properly once he was settled safely under their roof.

The pies were tucked in the oven and already filling the kitchen and hallway with the mouthwatering scent of cinnamon and cloves when the front doorbell rang. Moira hastily wiped her hands on her apron, but Ororo beat her to the punch.

Ororo, would you lead our guest into the study?

“Gladly,” she replied as she tugged open the heavy oak door. She stifled a gasp as she looked up, up, up into the face of a man whose head nearly reached the top of the doorframe. His expression, to her amusement, was just as surprised as hers as he studied her.

“Boszhe moi…I mean, good morning, er…”

“Are you here to see the Professor?” she inquired.

“Da,” he nodded, and she drew back to allow him inside. She continued to smile at his reaction to the enormous, well-appointed foyer and the opulent furnishings. “This is a school?” His voice was incredulous.

“Of a sort,” she chuckled. Her eyes were warm as she reached out to shake his hand. He noticed her grip was firm for someone with such slender, soft hands. Ororo herself was unused to feeling dwarfed by someone so much taller than she was, but his face was boyishly handsome and his cobalt blue eyes were warm and open. She liked him already. “The Professor said he’d like to see you in his study, Piotr.”

“You know my name?”

“The Professor just told me,” she explained cheerfully. “I hope you’re hungry. We’re expecting more guests shortly, but Moira and I have been busy in the kitchen all morning.”

“It feels good to stretch my legs,” he explained, and she easily believed him. “It was like being folded in half in those miserable airplane seats. The Professor paid my way here, but that didn’t make it any more comfortable.” His voice held a thick accent that she found appealing, much like the Professor’s faint lilt, Moira’s brogue or, surprisingly, the indolent, rough burr of Logan’s speech, even though she found the man himself unsavory. Yet she couldn’t shake their first meeting from her mind…

She mentally slapped herself and got back to the matter at hand. He lumbered silently behind her, occasionally gaping at elegant portraits and landscape paintings hanging on the walls, watching the sunlight streaming inside bathing the polished hardwood floor in a buttery shine. Professor Xavier was already smiling and watching the door, waiting for them.

“Welcome, Mister Rasputin! We’ve been expecting you. How was your flight?”

“Er, a bit…cramped.”

“Make yourself at home,” he offered. His voice was bold and rich, much like it had been when he came to his parents’ farm.

“Easier said than done,” he muttered under his breath, and Charles’ smile widened a notch. Ororo chuckled.

“I had the same reaction myself,” she admitted. “I think you’ll like it here.”

“It was difficult,” he explained, seating himself in the absurdly small wheeled chair opposite Charles’ desk and leaning his elbows over his knees, twisting his cap between his hands. “My baby sister cried the whole ride to the airport. She wanted to pack herself into my suitcase and come with me.”

“She’s a lovely child,” Charles agreed. “Like a little ray of sunshine. I promise you that you will have opportunities to visit her, or to bring her here, if you like.”

“She’s all I have,” Piotr rumbled. “My parents and I are not people of means, Professor. I’ve lost a brother already. My leaving them was not something done lightly, or without cost.”

“I realize that, son, and I’ve already taken some steps to ensure that they don’t suffer greatly from your absence, aside from missing you. I’ve already wired them a monthly stipend to supplement their income and hire another hand or two on your farm. I also replaced your neighbor’s tractor,” he murmured, and there was a glint of amusement in his eyes. Piotr blushed.

“Thank you, sir.” Ororo’s expression was curious and intrigued, but before she could ask for details, the doorbell rang again.

“I’ll get it,” she informed them, rushing out.

“Offer our friend Kurt a place to hang his coat, Ororo. He’s no doubt roasting by now.” Piotr raised an eyebrow, and the Professor wheeled himself out from behind his desk in anticipation.

“I’ll ask Moira if the food is ready in the meantime.” Piotr’s stomach grumbled in agreement.

Ororo opened the door, and this time she was greeted by a compact, wiry figure covered by a surprising layer of clothing despite the balmy day. His back was turned as he surveyed the expanse of the school’s lawn and the surrounding outbuildings, but he spun around to face her at the sound of her arrival. He seemed to stagger back abruptly at the sight of her before composing himself.

“Ach, Fraulein, you startled me,” he informed her. His accent was even more compelling than Piotr’s, and he had a lyrical tenor. Large dark glasses like the ones she favored when she was in the city covered his eyes, and a wool snow hat was pulled low over his ears. A black wool peacoat covered him to mid-thigh, and he wore a pair of sturdy black boots on his feet. A pair of dark blue mittens covered his hands, she noticed.

“Welcome, Kurt.”

“How did you…?”

“The Professor was expecting you. You must be boiling beneath all those things,” she tsked. “Let me hang them up,” she offered, gesturing for him to come inside, but he gently gripped her wrist as she reached for his hat. “I’m sorry…was I too bold, Kurt?”

“Nein. It’s…just that it’s a bit jarring when people meet me for the first time.”

“Why?” He felt a pang of frustration; no matter what he said to put her at ease was about to be sorely tested once he revealed himself.

“It’s complicated.”

“My friend, this whole day is about to become very complicated,” she assured him. “Come with me.” She reached for his mittened hand and tugged him along after her, and she heard his low exclamation of surprise. “And I hope you’ve brought an appetite. Moira and I made pie.”

“That…that sounds nice. And I didn’t catch your name?”

“Call me Ororo.”

“Unglaublich…how big is this house? I performed under a big top that wasn’t even half this size!” Then he added, “Where is that name from? I’ve never heard it before.”

“Kenya.”

“Then you’ve come a long way.”

“So have you, from what the Professor told me. And so has Piotr. I think you’ll like him.”

“That’s moot, if he does not like me,” Kurt reasoned, and she quirked a snowy brow at him.

“I like you,” she stated haughtily. He smiled beneath his knitted muffler.

Piotr turned at the sound of Ororo’s footsteps, and he received yet another shock -his day seemed to be full of them - as a heavily garbed young man who seemed to be draped in shadow glided inside after her.

“You can’;t be comfortable bundled beneath all of that, Mister Wagner. This is Piotr Rasputin. He just arrived today, too. You will be staying in the same wing.”

“Guten tag,” he offered, waving hesitantly, but he didn’t remove his garb before seating himself on a fainting couch in the corner. Ororo sighed, but any words she could form were interrupted by the clatter of Moira’s overloaded serving tray as she breezed inside.

“The bluidy food won’t serve itself, colleen,” she harped at Ororo, beckoning for her to help unload it onto the cherry table that was already dressed in a linen cloth. She got up to help her set out the silverware and layout the tea service cart beside it, bearing Moira’s ruffled feathers graciously before the doorbell rung again.

“Bluidy hell,” Moira grumbled. “Dinna let these lads starve t’death, lass, I’ll get it!” She tucked a gleaming lock of chestnut hair behind her ear and breezed out. “And take off yuir bleedin’ coat, lad! It’s hot as blazes in here!” Ororo smothered her smile, and watched Kurt fumbling with his scarf, unknotting it and laying it down beside him. She relieved him of it and hung it on the coatrack before offering him a cup of tea.

“Danke,” he murmured gratefully, before he peeled off one of his mittens and laid it aside, watching her reaction from beneath his glasses. He braced himself for revulsion, for her to revile him…and found only interest and acceptance written on her delicate features. His dark, three-fingered hand reached carefully for the porcelain cup and saucer, and she plucked up his mittens, wrapping them in his coiled scarf.

“Let me take these from you, Kurt” she murmured. His eyes flitted over to Piotr, who still looked uncomfortable in the chair as he fumbled with the sugar cubes. Kurt nodded to the seat beside him.

“There’s more room over here, mein freund.”

“He’s right,” Charles suggested. Piotr nodded numbly and stood, bringing his cup with him, and Kurt’s eyes rose to follow the line of his body, amazed at his size. The couch sagged beneath his weight as he settled himself.

“Did you travel very far to come here?”

“Da. And I left behind everything I had.”

“I left behind nothing,” he confessed. “Pleasure,” he saluted him, raising his teacup as he took a sip. Shadow seemed to love this new houseguest’s skin, seeming to become a part of him. Piotr couldn’t get over those remarkable hands.

“I feel like I left behind everything I knew,” Ororo mused. “Sugar?” she offered Kurt. She passed Piotr a the tray of snickerdoodles, and both men took their time studying her, still processing her unique looks with awe.

Whoever was at the door needed to stop leaning on the doorbell, Moira grumbled to herself. “I’m coming, no need tae be impatient! Och, hold yuir horses!” The door flew open with a savage yank. “Well, don’t ye just stand there gawking, come in before ye let in the flies!” A tall, rugged man nearly choked on his pipe, choking on a whiff of pungent smoke that went in through the wrong pipe, She smiled wryly as he attempted to recover himself.

“KAAARRGGHHH! *kaff* I’m…here t’see the Professor,” he rasped, his deep baritone missing its usual lilt as he wiped his now watery eyes.

“Aye. Tell me something I dinna already know,” she scoffed. “Put that out. Charley despises smoking in his home.” She yanked the pipe from his hand and knocked out the ashes from it before shoving it into her apron pocket. “Don’t stand there gawking all day. Follow me.” Before she could take his hat from him, he straightened himself and peered down into her face.

Blue eyes met green and lingered for one breathless moment. Her visitor cleared his throat sheepishly.

“What’re ye starin’ at, lad?”

“M’not a lad,” he informed her. He removed his hat and handed it to her, running a large, broad hand through his unruly hair, which gleamed a fair, golden shade of auburn. His fingertips bumped hers, and she felt a tingle of electricity run up the length of her arm, sending a rosy flush into her cheeks. She swallowed thickly, and her lips worked stubbornly as she tore herself away from him.

“Food’s getting cold. Charley’s waiting for ye in his study.”

“Then let’s not keep him waiting,” he agreed as he followed her. She felt the heat of his stare at her back; he drank in the sight of a long, shapely pair of calves revealed by her tapered brown skirt.

She lead him into the study and beckoned to him imperiously, “SIT!” He didn’t hesitate. “It’s gettin’ a wee bit crowded in here, Charley, I’ll fetch another chair.” He stared after her with a dumbstruck expression as she left. Charles nudged him briefly and reached to shake his hand.

“It’s good to see you, Sean. I trust you had a good trip?”

“Aye,” he murmured. “Er, who…?”

“Moira MacTaggert. She’s helping me to run the household for a while, and she’s one of my colleagues and dearest friends. I know she can also seem a bit abrupt.”

“Abrupt, he says,” Sean huffed. He rubbed his nape absently while Ororo came by and offered the cookie tray.

“Snickerdoodle?”

“Aye…oh. Hello,” he sputtered out, finally taking her in and noticing his new companions in their motley grandeur. He barely felt the pastry crumbling between his fingers as the caramel-skinned woman towering over him smiled at him with even, pearly teeth.

“We’ve nearly a full house,” she remarked. “Charles, I’m going to help Moira fetch the-“ She was cut off when the doorbell rang once more. “Oh, good, everyone’s showing up early!” She headed back outside, and Kurt shifted beside Piotr, tugging at the collar of his coat. Charles suddenly felt like he was caught up in some comedy of errors as each of the three men stared up at him, completely flabbergasted.

“And this is a school?” Kurt inquired. “Where are the children?”

“My students often come to me during their adolescence,” Charles explained. “I haven’t gained any new pupils for the past few months, but I’ve retained some of my graduating class as instructors, and for some of the school’s other interests and dealings.”

“Like Ororo?”

“Not quite. She’s here for the same reason that I’ve called you all together.”

Ororo didn’t expect to find two people on the other side of the door, both of them eyeing each other with no lack of disdain on the front porch.

“Come in,” she announced.

“Shit,” murmured the broad-shouldered mountain of a man garbed in well-worn jeans and thick-soled rancher’s boots as he gave her the once-over. “You don’t look like any school teacher I ever saw, sweetheart.”

“Call me Ororo,” she corrected him. The corner of his mouth curled slyly as he let himself in without any further preamble, brushing closely enough that she had to move back. His body radiated heat and unabashed virility, not unlike Logan, except his gaze was more open, and he took up more physical space. His skin was burnished and tanned, his bone structure sharp and angular. Glossy black hair hung down in straight sheaves down his back, and intelligent black eyes raked over the room.

“There’s no way this is a school. It’s like the friggin’ Hilton.”

“I’ve seen better,” his companion sniffed, “but it will do.” He looked down at Ororo’s extended hand arrogantly and decided not to leave her hanging, shaking it briskly. “I hope the Professor knows how much trouble I’ve gone through to be here.”

“And he appreciates it a great deal, as do I.” She pried his carry-on bag from his grip once he released her, also retrieving the other that his friend dropped on the floor with a plop. “And Shiro, John, it’s very nice to meet you.” John rocked back on his heels and followed her, noticing she didn’t stagger beneath the weight of the luggage, her posture straight and proud. “I’ll put these away. The Professor will be glad you made it safely.” She nodded toward the door of the study. “Be right back!”

“Och, I knew there wasn’t enough room in this blasted tiny room!” Moira complained, shooing both men inside. John was amused at the woman whose voice was bigger than she was as she steered him toward the end of the couch, already occupied by huge man and a second one seemingly swallowed up by his clothes. Shiro helped himself to the other chair beside Charles’ desk, crossing one ankle over his knee and folding his arms over his chest.

“It’s nice to see you again, Shiro.”

“Then you’d better make it worth my while,” he replied. He reached for a cookie, and was rebuffed by Moira flapping a napkin at him.

“Don’t drop any crumbs!” She turned to the Professor. “I’m headed back tae me kitchen, Charley! These tired bones of mine need a rest! Just give me a yell when ye need anything else, yuir Highness!” His smile was unperturbed as she spun on her heel and left.

“I like her.” Sean’s voice didn’t feel like his as it left his mouth.

“She’s a soft touch,” Ororo agreed. “And wait til you’ve had her pie.” It was on the tip of his tongue to ask her what kind, before he noticed the odd look Charles gave him over his teacup.

“I hope everyone’s had a chance to cool their heels,” announced a voice from the doorway. Scott strolled inside, looking all business while Logan trailed in his wake, looking like he’d been taken away from more entertaining affairs, but he leered knowingly at Ororo like a man who would suffer his current company gladly if he had to…

He perused the table’s offerings, muttering “What? Still no beer?”

“No shit,” John agreed brusquely, contenting himself with inhaling one of the finger sandwiches.

“Aye; we’d cool our heels a tad more easily at a tavern, if ya have any decent ones about,” Sean chimed in.

“Later,” Scott barked. “It’s time to get down to business.”

“What kind of business, tovarisch?” Piotr inquired.

“We have some people to save. We need you for a recon to bring them back.”

“Bring them back from what?”

“From where I lost them a few weeks ago,” Scott admitted, and his face burned with quiet shame before he continued. “We were scouting out a mutant signature in the South Pacific. We were tracking the signal on an island called Krakoa. It isn’t uncharted, but by all accounts, it’s uninhabited, or at least that’s what we believed until we got there.”

“Who did you find there?” Kurt asked, his voice still muffled beneath his cap and coat.

“We still don’t know. We were attacked. I woke up back at the jet, and I never saw what hit us. Communications were down when I tried to contact the others. There were five of us,” he explained. “My link with Cerebro was down.”

“With what?” Sean looked confused, and his expression was reflected on the faces of the other men in the room.

“Fancy thingamajig Chuck here used ta find me and the rest of ya,” Logan supplied. He helped himself to one of the sandwiches, waving it for emphasis. “Don’t ask. Yer gonna be there all day tryin’ ta understand it.”

“And let me get this straight,” John interjected. “You don’t know what we’re up against, but you want us to follow you back there, walk right in and bring back your friends? And they’re supposedly ‘students’ at this fancy school? You abandoned kids on a fuckin’ island?”

“Not kids. But yeah, they were students.”

“This little field trip sounds like a barrel of laughs,” John snorted.

“Sounds like you’re afraid,” Shiro accused dryly. John pinned him with a glare meant to intimidate but failed. Shiro was nonplussed; his chiseled mouth twisted and he shrugged. Almond-shaped brown eyes stared down a patrician nose as he drummed slender fingers on the arm of his chair.

“Afraid my ass. Better yet, bend over and kiss mine.” Logan liked him already.

“Like all of you, my graduates were mutants.” Charles assumed the reins of the discussion to Scott’s relief as he retreated to the doorway, leaning against its frame. “Perhaps you’ve heard news on television and in the newspapers of a group of people called the X-Men?”

“Da, but they’re criminals,” Piotr insisted.

“No, I assure you, they’re not, Piotr. And if you still want to help Scott in the search and rescue of my students, you’re welcome to join their ranks.”

“X-Men?” Kurt leaned forward, setting aside his teacup.

“Are you shitting me?” John looked ready to waltz back out the front door, but Ororo’s calm voice stopped him.

“He’s asking for your help. Hear him out. You have an opportunity to help some amazing people who desperately need it. Think about a time in your life when you’ve wished someone would have stood up for you and yours, John.”

“That ain’t easy, sweetheart. No one’s ever stood up for me and mine. Don’t see why I should return the favor.”

“And I don’t see why you feel you shouldn’t set the example.” She sighed deeply, planting her hands on her hips in a gesture that Logan was starting to grow accustomed to. “But it’s up to you.”

“Anyone who’s got any second thoughts can leave, and we won’t hold it against you,” Scott added, “but if you’re willing to take the next step and join us, and bring our people home, then you’ll be joining one big, happy, dysfunctional family and be starting something pretty damned rewarding, namely saving lives and shaping new ones. But if you’re not on board, I won’t stop anyone from walking back out that door.” He leveled his red-spectacled gaze at Logan and John, waiting for their reply. John participated in the staring contest for five long seconds.

“I ain’t going anywhere, Bright Eyes. But beer would help.” Logan’s grin was feral behind him. Knowing chuckles escaped Piotr, Sean and Kurt, and Ororo wearily shook her head and rolled her eyes in defeat, her and Moira’s earlier labors for naught.

“Fine then. Get settled in. Get some rest. Tomorrow’ a big day,” he continued.

“What then?” Piotr asked.

“Then we suit up.” The room was silent as he strode out, five sets of eyes following him.

“I don’t think I even wanna know what that means,” Logan grumbled.

“No. You don’t,” Shiro tsked.

“Speakin’ of which…yer creepin’ me out, bub, take that shit off,” Logan griped, striding over and yanking off Kurt’s hat before he could stop him. “Holy…

“I would’ve preferred that you didn’t do that,” Kurt informed him quietly, and his long, pointed blue ears twitched. He sighed and reached up to pluck off his dark glasses, and luminous yellow eyes held Logan immobile. “I’ll take that, mein freund,” he said, nodding to his hat. Beside him, Piotr’s eyes were wide as he gaped at him, but he didn’t shy away.

“Can’t say I expected that,” Logan admitted breathlessly. He handed him back his cap with limp fingers and stood back as Kurt slowly removed his coat and boots.

“Likewise,” he retorted back. “You have remarkable hair.” Ororo enjoyed his jaunty tone and wit, and she studied him with growing interest and delight. “As do you, Fraulein,” he commented to her, facing her now and bracing himself for her reaction.

“Thank you,” she beamed, and her lips twitched at Logan and Piotr’s inability to rein in their surprise. Sean and Charles were enjoying the show as Kurt pried off one boot, then the other.

He wiggled the two - two - long toes on each foot, the long, thick digits flexing as he groaned with relief. “Ach, I despise shoes.”

“I bet,” Sean agreed. He knew his departed wife, Maeve, would never believe him if he told her about the sights he’d seen today.

“Let me hang that up, Kurt,” Ororo suggested, motioning for his coat. He stood to his full height, now that he was unencumbered by his coat, and handed it to her gratefully. A slender tail, barbed sharply at the end like the head of an arrow, flicked back and forth as he continued to stretch. His face was lean and not unpleasant to look at; a European profile was finally illuminated by the sun bathing the study, and when he smiled, she could see slightly elongated canines, slightly more prominent than Logan’s, but he managed not to look menacing.

His skin was indigo blue, and for some reason, Ororo itched to reach out and touch it.

He didn’t stop her when her hand drifted up to stroke him, her caress feather-light and tender. “Oh,” she exclaimed on a whisper. Velvety fur tickled her fingertips, and he trembled beneath her touch. “I didn’t expect…” She cleared her throat and dropped her hand.

“I’m not what most people expect.”

“Ya think?” John piped up.

“Fuck off,” Logan growled, flicking him in the back of the head. He fought back the growl that rose up from his chest when Ororo reached out to touch him, suddenly covetous of that brief contact.

Did those hands feel as good as he imagined? How would it feel if she looked at him like that?

“I didn’t mean to be rude,” she apologized, and she felt her stomach do a funny little dip as he gave her an elegant bow, drawing her hand up to his lips for a kiss that made her sizzle all the way down to her toes.

“Nonsense. I’m honored, Fraulein. And I hope to meet any further expectations you might have.” Piotr’s chest rumbled with silent laughter, but he also looked slightly jealous. Shiro rose from his seat, disgusted by the display.

“This is a waste of time. Professor, I’d like to be shown to my room.”

“Moira would be happy to do the honors. And Ororo and Scott will be giving you a tour of the school shortly, if you like.”

“If you insist.” His gait was proud as a rooster’s as he waved himself out.

“Cocky little shit,” John muttered.

“Ain’t enough beer in the world ta chase out whatever bug crawled up his ass,” Logan agreed. He nodded to Sean and Piotr. “Beer?”

“Beer.” Sean was already on his feet. “But I want my pipe back first.” Ororo had said something earlier about Moira’s pie.





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